And every mistake I make comes back to haunt me
Still, I'm as happy as I've ever been...
--Marcy Playground, "Bye Bye"
Almost broke.
Possibly about to get fired.
Jimmy crack corn, and I don't care.
Let me get this all in, because I've got about five hours of sleep to get to.
I called off work, and went in. They busted me (not for the Con portion, for the comp portion). So I "should've stopped there".
Snuck in with Ivan. I waved my badge and said he was a new hire. Yes, I might use my powers for good someday. It wasn't the me aspect of the no-comp I got perturbed over, it's that I promised him and then couldn't deliver. In theory.
We ran around for a couple hours (I bought a Racially Profiled shirt) and went to the Kevin Smith speaking part. But not only was the almost a literal mile long, but I accidentally ran into a higher supervisor than the one who let my calling in sick go. He was berating me about how they'd had me on camera all day and forcing me out of the building [and Ivan by proxy, the part that bummed me out], and suddenly I had the perfect line to get fired on--you can scream at me until you grow an adult-sized penis--but I held it in abeyance. Later on I would hate myself for holding it. Jobs come and go, but a blaze of glory exit with a perfect line like that? Maaaaaan. Anyway, my kicking out of the building lasted all of 15 minutes. Where it takes the commonday idiot about an hour and a half, I snuck back through cutting to the front of the line, ambling upstairs, and pretending they lost my info in the mail so I could pay unlike everyone else they made wait.
Got back to the real line for the Kevin Smith thing, but he's late. They push him to the evening and I get lunch which is waaaaaayyyyyy too big for me.
I gear up for the Veronica Mars run and guess who I run into, Aaron McGruder & Chuck D just hanging out together. I get a picture with them and profess my admiration for their collective work. Normally this would be a much bigger paragraph, but later events....yeah.
I get in line about two hours early and I'm one of the first 15 in line. I end up talking with the guys in front of me about the Superman, the Pirates, and the Clerks II, and they are slightly awed I'm risking my job (did risk it, at that point) for this moment. Yeah, I haven't been waiting for this for months. Jobs come and go; great moments live forever. Then my friend Jen is walking out of the WB/CW booth, so I get to talk to her for a while,45 minutesish. It's at this point I'm asked if they can film me talking about Veronica Mars for a series of commercial bumpers that're airing in the fall on the CW to try and hook new viewers.
They want me to talk about Veronica Mars. On camera. To try and get others to watch. Which they could later televise.
Somehow they tricked me into doing it, and I broke down seasons 1 and 2, why it's a good show. I got to do it with Jen as my sidekick, which is a nice bit of a circle coming full.
I wait another hour and change as the line explodes exponentially ah ha ha SUCKERS and my new friends and I discuss how we got tricked into pimping the show. They show up and I start with the making ready. The camera's out. I pop Tic-Tacs (if you think I'm meeting Kristen Anne Bell with carne asada breath, stop a brick with your face). I get the phone ready on the off chance I'll have enough time to have her do the voicemail and thus drive Dupin to full suicide. She is so beautiful in person Baby Jesus would cry openly and clap his hands. I get the season 1 DVD set out. Line's moving quick.
There's a break and I'm next to Michael Muhney. And I shake his hand and go, "You're SUCH a great asshole!" Fortunately, he gets the comment as it's intended and says after laughing, "People always say that to me. 'You're a great dickhead', stuff like that. I have to keep remembering I'm a good person.' I say I'll see him in a minute, and then before I know it Zero Hour arrives.
My season 1 DVD set box is on the table, off to the races and a big fat check if I ever didn't love it enough to throw it on Ebay as the cast takes turns signing it. (ONE thing got autographed--however, they failed to delinate what the thing would be, I took a shot. It payed off. Who's house?) There's Jason Dohring, lowkey but with the Logan smirk. Handshake. Admiration for playing an asshole with a little bit of a redeeming side. There's Ryan Hansen, looking Dick (Casablanca)-ish as ever, and admiration for playing mean-spirited without malicious. He & Jason pose for a shot together. Fuck, they are really moving us along. Francis Capra, my favorite supporting actor, since Wallace isn't there (uberirony), and he confirms he'll be in season 3 but not how. Picture.
And then it's Kristen Bell and Rob Thomas and Enrico Colantoni all together like ducks in a row, in that order, and I damn near lactate. But first a picture. To Kristen & Rob I say, "I don't have the time to say everything that I want to say, but if you ever need anybody killed, I'm there." Kristen laughs--awesome girl laugh--and then she laughs at the shirt. Loves the shirt. My To: Women From: God shirt.
I'm a god. I'm not the God.
Then I ask her can she sign my arm as you see it above, and she only pauses a beat before accepting it. She almost signs, and then she calls over the network people. They were filming that too, because the VMars fans are so dedicated and apparently they're going to show that to hook people. I am a C.W. target market. Then she signs my arm, cameras rolling, and Rob himself takes the shot of his ingenue branding me--and it's a good shot, too. Patience, kids.
Enrico signs, I shake his hand and call him the best dad on TV. Back to Michael. He closes it out, and notes it's been a couple years and no one's ever got their arm signed.
My DVD box is back with sigs. Kristen Bell has signed my arm. I've met them all, and not only after an hourlong panel were they engaging, they were nice and appreciative. Adrenaline flows through my veins like the first hit of crack.
Keep in mind this is my favorite show, why I risked my job, why I got thrown out and dove back in, et al, only to watch it pay off and then some.
I start l a u g h i n g. I mean like a nut.
It doesn't occur to me for 20 seconds I've left my phone, and Michael hands it back to me with a "No, it's my phone! Yeah, now it's 'He's an asshole in real life!' More laughing. I told him it would've been an honor and a privilege and I go and I laugh psychotically all 50 feet to where Amanda's working the Disney booth and I show the DVD, the picture, and the forearm (forearm first) and then Carly and Jo happen by then and I show it off to them.
The Kevin Smith line goes into the next county and though Aaron's got a seat for me I won't get in. So I pick up my stuff, go, have a cherry lemonade grande, and keep gazing at my forearm and the New Best Picture Ever. Can't stop smiling. Why would I?
Meet Ivan and we hit a new hookah lounge.
Then we went to see my DJ buddy for the first time in a couple months and--on the way we met some VMars fans and some crew, who all loved the arm signature--he played some of my requests, we got the first round on him, he was damn glad to see me and pleased we came out. Not a lot of us but we made up for it in energy (me). We were going to go to a bikini fashion show but ended up hanging longer than expected with him, and instead ended up at Confidential so he could wear off his buzz. I lost a tenner in change (aw) but finally got with that hot Indian girl I see on my delivery route all the time and bumped and grinded with her a bit, which was nice. The Running Man, it's like Spanish Fly. I keep saying.
So time for four and a halfish hours of sleep, following which I'll go to work and see if I'm fired, suspended, probationed, or verbally smacked (3 prior years with a clean record. I'm not expecting the first, but if they do, well, fuck 'em.). And maybe I should be worried. But I'm not in the least.
I had a great day. I got to share it with a bunch of friends. I did it for 22 hours.
And I'm the property of Kristen Bell.
I'm willing to bet that looks sweet on a resume.
EPILOGUE
"Suspended for a week". Sounds horrible. Except it's today and my shift on Wednesday. And they're giving me half pay for today since I showed up on time like usual and all. So it's really a 9½ hour suspension, except they would've taken the lunch I would've taken today out of my pay, so it's a 9 hour. And I can't step foot on the facility. Because that's what I love to do when the Comic-Con's not around, hang out at work. Formal meeting Friday, I cop to everything and promise never before, never again (real easy to do when never again constitutes a time period between 3 weeks and 4 months), and that's it.
I had no idea I was such close friends with Michelle Rodriguez's judges. I'm getting the pictures in 45 minutes, send them off later, and actually get some sleep in my bed without worrying about leaving work the same time as 60,000 other people.
Even when bad things happen to me, good's in them. (Assuming I'm not fired, which would be sad, but only slightly.) What song should I play? Oh, I know...
Bad Reputation Joan Jett & the Blackhearts
